


Immoral Dreams

by alyuchiha913



Series: Immoral Desires [3]
Category: Code Geass
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst and Romance, Asphyxiation, Bottom Suzaku, Budding Love, Choking, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Desire, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional Sex, Epiphanies, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Gay Sex, Heavily Implied Romance, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Pining, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyuchiha913/pseuds/alyuchiha913
Summary: He was in over his head; spiralling further and further down a dark labyrinth of dangerous, complex emotion – and he couldn't find his way out. He had brought about his demise the moment he’d allowed those immoral desires to overcome him; had dug his own grave the instant he’d given in to that immoral deed with the terrorist. Now he was frantically struggling to control himself before things got even more out of hand, but he couldn’t deny the feelings brimming beneath the surface. It was no longer just lust – what had started out as simply physical desire had somehow turned into more than that – into something much more...intimate....and no matter how frantically his sense of integrity clamoured at him that it was wrong, every single fibre of his innermost being insisted that it was so right.----Suzaku-centric. Zero/Suzaku. Sequel to "Immoral Deeds"
Relationships: Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Kururugi Suzaku/Zero
Series: Immoral Desires [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920040
Comments: 17
Kudos: 38





	Immoral Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding the DUBIOUS CONSENT WARNING:
> 
> 1\. I'd like to assure you that the intercourse in this story is very much consensual. HOWEVER, there are instances of choking that take place that could be triggering for some. It is important to note that the actions were not done in a threatening or aggressive manner, and were also not opposed to by the character on the receiving end (in fact, they were very much welcomed) BUT there was never any discussion of consent, boundaries, or safe words beforehand, hence the DUB-CON warning.
> 
> 2\. Please note that this is purely fiction and for entertainment only. These types of actions should NOT be taken in real life. ALWAYS discuss consent and boundaries with your partner before attempting anything new and/or radical in your sexual exploits.
> 
> 3\. Choking and other forms of erotic asphyxiation are dangerous, and should not be attempted without proper research and training. Do not try any of it if you don't know the proper techniques; and definitely do not try it alone! Improper execution could result in death!
> 
> \----
> 
> This series was originally written in 2009 and initially consisted of two parts - Immoral Desires and Immoral Deeds. This third instalment was started back in 2009 but never made it past a few paragraphs before life got in the way. Now, 11 years later, as I decided to revise the first two works, the inspiration struck to complete this one, and wow, it exploded. I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> \----
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> \----
> 
> Recommended Playlist (Optional):  
> Love On The Brain - Rihanna  
> Unthinkable - Alicia Keys  
> Kiss Me A Thousand Times - RAIGN  
> Stay - Rihanna  
> Stay With Me - Sam Smith  
> This World Of Ours - RAIGN
> 
> I have compiled an actual playlist on YouTube for this fic for anyone interested. The title is "Immoral Dreams by alyuchiha913 Playlist" and it can be searched by that title or found at  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIe692KcbBj8e1hqoGxhvfj_vAtHf0Z01  
> \----

It was wrong.

So unbelievably wrong.

Absolutely, unthinkably, wrong.

Suzaku tried. He really tried to ignore the treacherous emotions welling up within him. He desperately attempted to convince himself that he was simply infatuated; that it was nothing more than mere lust and physical attraction that would fade away eventually. Yet, no matter how hard he sought to make himself believe that it was purely carnal desire, some deep part of him knew that it was more – _so much more_.

It was preposterous.

He strived to remind himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be feeling this way; reasons why he wasn’t even supposed to be in this position in the first place – his morals, his beliefs, his **_loyalties_** – but to no avail. After all, they were the same reasons he had blatantly ignored countless times before, as he had allowed his foe to claim him repeatedly – to thoroughly ravish his body (beautifully, masterfully, _exquisitely_ ) time and time again – so why should they make any difference now?

It was improper.

It went against everything he’d believed in and every oath he’d taken as a soldier of the Britannian army – against every last shred of his dignity and integrity. He was supposed to capture his enemy, not be _seduced_ by him on a regular basis (no matter how exhilarating and _electrifying_ it was). He honestly could not believe he had let it come so far, but somehow he had – and he wasn’t able to stop. He _didn’t want to stop_. Every touch, every caress, every brush of lips left him wanting more and more each time; so much so that he _yearned_ for the terrorist even after he was gone; his very being aching with longing as he anxiously awaited their next liaison.

It was _forbidden_.

It had all gone too far, too fast. He was in over his head; spiralling further and further down a dark labyrinth of dangerous, complex emotion – and it was becoming increasingly difficult to find his way out. He had brought about his demise the moment he’d allowed those immoral desires to overcome him; had dug his own grave and dived into it head-first at that initial encounter, when he’d given in to that immoral deed with the insurrectionist after only the paltriest resistance. Now he was frantically struggling to control himself before things got even more out of hand, but try as he might, he couldn’t deny what was happening – he was unable to ignore the feelings brimming beneath the surface. It was no longer just lust – he could feel it deep in his bones; a slow-burning fire rising up from his most hidden depths, threatening to consume him from the inside out. What had started out as simply libidinous urges and acts had somehow started morphing into more than that – into something much more… ** _intimate_**.

_Sweet sighs and soft whimpers as warm hands trailed gently over sensitive skin._

He didn’t know how or when it had begun (he knew exactly when – at the very beginning when Zero had shown him such extraordinary euphoria that he had felt as though his splintered spirit had been made whole – but he refused to admit it). All he knew was that for some unknown (unacknowledged) reason, his clandestine trysts with the terrorist were disconcertingly evolving from merely satisfying cravings of the flesh to something inscrutable – something powerful and frightening and impossible – that he couldn’t ( _shouldn’t_ ) name.

_Melodic moans and breathy gasps as ardent fingers caressed heated bodies._

He was losing himself piece by piece with each new rendezvous with the seductive man who was supposed to be his adversary. The walls he’d built up around himself were slowly crumbling against his will; his opponent breaking through his carefully erected defences with every breath-taking kiss and spine-tingling thrust. It was terrifying yet amazing – liberating and mind-boggling and – oh, _so very_ _dangerous_. Each time they met in the secret cover of night, he told himself that it would be the last – that it _had_ to be the last – that he needed to stop this madness before he was beyond the point of no return; and yet, despite his raging conflictions, he invariably found himself returning _again and_ _again_ to that forbidden embrace.

_Tender touches and fervent kisses as silken tongues moved sensually over supple flesh._

It was as though he was drawn to the rebel by some unseen force; as though their very souls were connected by an invisible string that kept pulling him back to the compelling insurgent time after time, despite how wrong, how _perilous_ it was – like a moth drawn to a beguiling flame. Every time they met, Zero ignited a part of him that should have remained untouchable to someone so amoral; and yet…he was unable to deny the slow fuse of yearning kindling within the depths of his heart, building up to explode into a sentiment he knew he most definitely should not be feeling for someone he was supposed to be fighting against. It was inconceivable and completely ridiculous, but it was there and palpable and _real;_ and he didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know how to get rid of it ( _didn’t want_ to get rid of it, because it felt _so right_ ).

_Soft sobs and cries of pleasure as bodies melded effortlessly together._

Suzaku moaned in satisfaction as his lover (and _oh,_ how astounding it was for that label to fit so _perfectly_ on this beautiful, terrible, pseudonymous man – his _enemy_ ) peppered light kisses and love bites along his neck and shoulder, even as he raked piercing nails across his body, digging sharply enough to leave trails of stinging welts behind – a stark contrast that had Suzaku trembling with desperate, fervent need. It still amazed him the way Zero had learned to push his buttons so easily, so quickly (as though they had been doing it for a _lifetime_ ) despite the incredibly short time in which they had been sleeping together. It was yet another facet to the enthralling enigma of the rebel; another element that piqued his curiosity, alluring him to the enchanting man – drawing him deeper and deeper into the tangled web of traitorous longings and immoral dreams.

He gasped as his world tilted suddenly and he found himself unexpectedly upright before he was finally granted that delicious, burning stretch he’d been pleading for; his companion filling him perfectly, gloriously; drawing a rumbling groan from his throat, as the other man gripped his hips bruisingly, commanding him to move – to work for his pleasure. Suzaku shuddered as he obeyed; that indescribable emotion already taking him over – that euphoric sense of _rightness_ that filled him unfailingly every single time he allowed the enticing man beneath him to claim him. It was as though they had been made to complete each other – as if they were two parts of the same whole finally coming together after having been separated for aeons. He had felt it the very first time they’d delved into the throes of passion together, and it had stunned him so eminently that he had questioned his own sanity afterwards. He’d then written it off as a one-time experience – had convinced himself that it had only felt that way because he’d never before explored such deeds with anyone; and yet…incredulously, against his expectations, he had felt it profoundly, intensely, in _every single encounter_ since then – until he’d had no choice but to acknowledge the inconceivable connection he shared with this entrancing man.

“Zero!”

The name fell from his lips like a mantra, increasing in frequency and speed until it dissolved into nothing but needy moans and incoherent ramblings as he lost himself to the mind-blowing fervour of their union. He was only vaguely mindful of when his blathering turned into reverent utterances and adulations in Japanese, but he was acutely aware of his paramour’s reaction – of the way Zero gripped him that much tighter and growled as he surged up abruptly to bite roughly at his neck, causing Suzaku to jolt and shout at the sudden burst of pain. He had noticed early on that the rebel apparently had a terrible weakness for hearing him speak in his native language – it seemed to spur him to even more ardent reactions (much to Suzaku’s enjoyment) than anything else in their sessions. He had assumed it was because the mysterious man was Japanese himself and perhaps enjoyed the nostalgia of hearing the language spoken; and yet…not once had Zero ever spoken to him in Japanese – not even any unintentional slips in the heat of the moment, like Suzaku was so prone to doing. It was just one more piece to add to the befuddling puzzle of the sensational figure beneath him.

He cried out in gratification in response to his companion’s increased ardour; locking his arms and legs around the terrorist, trapping that lithe body against his own as he begged eagerly for more; his pleas switching back and forth between languages as his brain short-circuited from the exquisite torture Zero was inflicting on him. Suzaku was fairly certain he was creating a new language altogether – his words jumbling and tripping on each other until they were no longer recognisable as anything from either language – as he was overwhelmed by the magnificent sensations overtaking him. His entire body was ablaze with passion; nerves tingling, toes curling, thighs quivering, as his partner took him to soaring heights of ecstasy. He felt every element of his psyche swooning with unavowed emotion as Zero claimed him thoroughly; possessing him in body, mind and spirit – devouring him wholly from inside out, and replenishing him with rapturous completeness. He faintly wondered if the other man was conscious of the type of feelings he was invoking within him; if he knew that he was delving into the depths of Suzaku’s fragile, twisted soul and dragging out something alarming and amazing and fierce and _forbidden_ – something that should remain _buried_ at all costs. He wondered how the rebel would react if he knew; if he would find it mortifying, or loathsome, or just ludicrous or (if he would possibly feel even remotely the same).

Suzaku froze in shock at that unexpected, _wishful_ thought; his heart stopping and head spinning at the absolute absurdity of it. His brain roared at him that this was _ridiculous_ – that he had well and truly lost his scruples and had definitely gone off the deep end to even long for such a thing; and yet…a part of him latched on to that minute possibility (that _fantastical_ dream) like a parched man seeking even the smallest drop of water in a desert. He was hazily aware of the hollow laughter that suddenly burst past his lips at the sharp, brutal revelation of the extent of the reprehensible depths he had fallen to; his body trembling for totally different reasons now – breath faltering, limbs shaking, hands clenching – as he was confronted with the stark truth he had been resolutely trying not to uncover. The more he focused on it, the darker and more uncontrollable his cachinnation became; growing increasingly dreadful and ragged with each passing moment. He was dazedly cognisant of his name being called, words being spoken, questions being asked; but he couldn’t react, couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but laugh hysterically as his heart _twisted_ from the myriad of emotions surging and _battling_ within him – an emergent hope and desire for that _unmentionable_ wish to be true being forcefully squashed by denial and derision; dejection and sadness over his self-crushed hope ruthlessly stamped down by shame and self-loathing; and… _something else_ (that he still refused to name) valiantly struggling to rise up and push past all the conflict, in spite of how wrong (how _right_ ) it was.

He was abruptly snapped out of his deteriorating thoughts and mounting heartache by a sudden, stinging slap to his cheek, which was instantly followed by slender fingers gripping his throat harshly, squeezing tighter and tighter until it was just enough to drastically restrict his airflow without cutting it off entirely, and warm lips simultaneously pressing lightly against his in soft, lingering kisses – a perfect balance that effectively halted his near deranged laughter and wrested him from his downward spiral. He shuddered as his mind was forcibly drawn from his internal warzone and anchored to reality by the hand that was pressing firmly upon his throat, while his spirit was soothed soundly by those lips that were delicately brushing against his own. The spasms in his chest slowly diminished as his lover’s other hand caressed his face gently, wiping away the tears (he hadn’t even noticed he’d cried) that had slipped past his blindfold. A part of Suzaku berated himself for having shown such _weakness_ to his adversary, but another part – a louder, stronger part – marvelled gratefully at the way that Zero always seemed to know exactly what he needed, as if he knew him _consummately_ down to the very core of his essence. It was astounding and mystifying (and could probably get him killed in battle, his instincts nagged – but he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ focus on that now) – and once more he felt that unparalleled sense of _rightness_ swell within him; his anguish gradually melting away as he immersed himself in the _solace_ of that familiar feeling.

His world tilted unexpectedly for a second time, as he was pushed so that he was lying sprawled on his back; the comforting weight of Zero pressing down on him, _grounding_ him to the here and now. The rebel had eventually removed his hand from Suzaku’s throat once he’d sufficiently calmed down, and was now languidly stroking his side in soothing motions and occasionally planting light kisses along his neck; but he was otherwise perfectly still above and within him. The thoughtful _tenderness_ of it made Suzaku’s heart ache – had him wondering once more (no, he could not afford to go down that train of thought again, _not now_ ; his psyche still too worn – too _raw_ – to risk dwelling on fanciful speculations). He resolved instead to simply enjoy the affection without ruminating on any perceived meaning behind it; forcing his thoughts down as he focused on the lulling movements of the hand that was still idly caressing his side. He reached out to run his fingers through rich hair, just as his paramour shifted to kiss him tenderly; their lips melding in a slow, delicate dance that filled him with pleasant warmth that had his spirit easing into a mellow state of contentment. He relished in it while making a deliberate effort not to think about the potential implications of it; wanting to hold on to the tranquillity of the moment – it was a much welcome reprieve from the dark spiral he had just been dragged out of.

Suzaku groaned lightly in protest when their lips finally parted, not yet ready to let go of that serene solace. He pushed forward to recapture that mouth, but was granted only a gentle press of lips that was over far too quickly before he felt the slender man move as though to get off of him. A burst of panic swept through him – he wasn’t ready for the other to leave yet; wasn’t ready to be left alone with the virulent thoughts that were still hovering at the back of his mind. He quickly wrapped his limbs around the rebel to keep him where he was; grinding his hips seductively in an attempt to convince him that he was perfectly fine (he wasn’t really, but he _needed_ this – needed to feel that _mind-numbing_ euphoria that only Zero was capable of bringing him) and that he was very much still interested in continuing in the direction they had been heading before his startling (humiliating) mental ( _emotional_ ) breakdown. When his companion hesitated for much too long, Suzaku resorted to beseeching him in Japanese; pausing between phrases to drop eager kisses along his mouth and jawline. He rolled his hips enticingly again and reached one hand up to grasp silken hair tightly, the other raking nails down that lean back; _entreating_ the man to take him sweetly, fiercely, thoroughly; to _ravish_ him until his brain would be able to focus on nothing else (nothing damning or depressing) besides the incredible gratification of their union.

He almost cried in relief when Zero finally gave in to his pleas; sighing in satisfaction when he settled onto him as before – the weight of him a desirable anchor that helped to tether his focus mainly to the physicality of his presence. Without warning, limber fingers trailed up to his neck again and squeezed slightly – almost as if his partner had sensed his need without him voicing it. Suzaku moaned in appreciation and pushed against that hold just to feel it constrict a bit more in response, as he pulled the other man down to reconnect their lips in a sensual kiss that gradually increased in fervour until it had him writhing wantonly from the thrilling heat unfurling anew throughout his body. He bucked urgently; wordlessly imploring his paramour to take him fervidly, ferociously – to _ruin_ him in the best way…only to end up groaning in frustration as his movements were forcibly stilled by a firm hand pressing down on his hip insistently, as the rebel seemingly had other ideas. He whined as Zero set up a torturously languid pace instead – the slow grind of it lighting him up in entirely different ways, as he felt it deeply, _intensely_ throughout his body. Suzaku shivered and sobbed as his partner trailed tender kisses along his skin in tandem with his movements; the overwhelming _sweetness_ of it all threatening to make his heart burst. It was almost ( _no_ , he would _not_ go there again). He jolted when fine nails bit sharply into his hip and the hand on his neck tightened perceptibly – the pain and the chokehold a stark, but welcome counterbalance to the gentleness of everything else – effectually drawing him back from spiralling into that messy headspace a second time. Once more, he was awestruck at how Zero was always able to read him so easily (so _perfectly_ ) – as if they were connected intrinsically on a soulular level – and he briefly wondered if he would ever stop being surprised by it, but the thought faded as the pressure on his throat increased until he was barely able to breathe; ensuring that his focus would be on nothing else besides his own stuttering breaths and the physical sensations that were overtaking him.

Every fibre of his being trembled from the intensity of it all; his heart swelling and soul soaring as Zero carefully, masterfully, _lavished_ him with affectionate passion that had him whimpering and keening between shallow, gasping breaths. He soon felt stars bursting behind his eyes; his head swimming and lungs burning as what little breathing he’d been capable of had been quickly outstripped by his heedless moans of pleasure, and then even further halted by his lover unexpectedly claiming his lips in a delicious, _breath-taking_ kiss. Suzaku felt certain that he was about to die in the _most satisfying way_ ; his body screaming for air even as it _smouldered_ with the all-consuming rapture building within him. As if with a sixth sense, Zero once more reacted to his need a mere second before he could think to express it; mercifully releasing his lips and the near death-grip on his throat simultaneously, allowing precious oxygen to blessedly flood his lungs. Suzaku zealously drew a shuddering breath– only to have it instantly forced right back out in a bellowing cry as his climax washed over him in sudden tidal waves; each one surging higher and _higher_ until his body was awash in ecstasy so immense, he swore the universe was _exploding_ within him. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before – a seemingly never-ending, mind-numbing, soul-snatching supernova that had him soaring on even greater levels of euphoria than he had ever thought possible. He was _drowning_ in it; his very essence so wholly, consummately, _transcendently_ overcome by it that he couldn’t think, couldn’t move, _couldn’t breathe_ – all he could do was succumb helplessly to that magnificent, _sublime_ nirvana as it claimed him.

When Suzaku eventually stirred awake, he did so in a somewhat hazy state of disbelief; his blissed out psyche not quite yet accepting that he was truly in the land of the living (because _surely_ he had just died a _spectacular death_ and had been to _paradise_ ). Ironically, it was that thought which pushed him fully into consciousness (there was certainly no kind of paradise waiting for him at his death) and he blearily blinked his eyes open as he finally registered that yes, he was alive, and no, he was no longer blindfolded, which meant– he bolted upright, groaning hoarsely as every nerve in his body protested the abrupt movement; eyes anxiously scanning his surroundings until they landed reassuringly on the masked figure moving fluidly in the semidarkness at the opposite side of the room. He relaxed slightly at the confirmation that Zero hadn’t yet left; a wistful sigh escaping him while his gaze roamed over that lithe form (entranced as always by the man’s mesmerising movements) as he knew it was only a matter of time before the half-dressed man finished putting the rest of his regalia back into place and made his dramatic exit (and for some reason, the reality of that established routine distressed him now in a way it never had before; a disquieting sense of loss unexpectedly flowing through him). It hit him with stunning clarity as he watched the rebel affix another piece of his elaborate ensemble – he wasn’t ready for the man to leave yet; he wasn’t ever ready, no matter how many times they went through this routine, he would _never_ be ready, because he _didn’t want him to leave._

“Stay.”

The word slipped past his lips on pure instinct – before he had even had a chance to register the thought, or come to terms with the insanity of the request. He winced internally as his brain caught up with his mouth (his _heart_ ), and he was forced to recognise the adumbration of that seemingly simple plea; a single word that was loaded with so much more meaning than its brevity suggested. His hands trembled and clutched at the sheets beneath him as he was once again blindsided by that staggering realisation that he had been derailed by earlier – that appalling bombshell that had so thoroughly disarmed him that it had pierced him to his core and sent him spiralling out of control. It was threatening to burst out of him again now – that elucidation that was so utterly irrational and _unimaginable_ , and far beyond the realm of what was even remotely permissible. Hell, none of what he’d done thus far was allowable, really, but even so, _this_ …this was _verboten_ territory; the man before him was his _enemy_ – he was fighting to destroy the country Suzaku served – he was the most wanted criminal in the nation – he was a _dangerous_ insurgent – he had **_killed_** people; and Suzaku knew he had already _damned_ himself by succumbing to the beguiling man and becoming entangled in this messy, torrid affair, but _that_ , at least, he could reconcile under the lie of it being merely carnal desires. _This_ though, this _saccharine **dream**_ that was flaring inside him was irrefutably irreconcilable. Surely, it was _treason;_ and yet… _and yet_ his anima yearned for it so powerfully, so _profoundly_ (like a drowning man gasping for even the smallest breath of air in the midst of the vast ocean) that no matter how frantically the last vestiges of his sense of duty and integrity clamoured at him that this longing was immoral and _illicit_ , every single fibre of his innermost being _insisted_ that it was _so **right.**_

“Please, stay _._ ”

The ever-graceful terrorist had actually frozen in his movements at the request – completely paralysed, except for the exaggerated (almost comical) slow turn of his head to face him; and it was deeply satisfying to Suzaku, in some _twisted_ way, to know that Zero was just as blindsided by his appeal as he had been (as he still was, because his brain was still screaming that this was so unbelievably aberrant, but he was seriously trying not to focus on that in an attempt to keep his sanity intact). Suzaku would say that the rebel looked like a deer startled in headlights, except he had no idea what expression the other man wore – had no way of reading into his features, thanks to that damnable mask. He had never before despised an inanimate object the way he hated that helmet; but even so, he had also gratefully come to realise that the rebel always put it on almost immediately after their trysts ended – before any other article of clothing – to allow Suzaku his freedom from his blindfold as soon as possible while still maintaining his secrecy. (There had even been one especially memorable time when Zero had _kept the mask on_ instead of blinding him – and at the time, Suzaku had never been so turned on before in his life – but he _refused_ to admit that aloud). It was as though the other man had somehow intrinsically understood that Suzaku didn’t actually like being blinded (no matter how much his body appreciated the heightened sense of touch; the lack of sight still grated at his instincts) although Suzaku himself had never once voiced any complaints about it (though after tonight’s experience, he was now keenly cognisant of how expertly Zero was able to read his needs without him saying a word). Still, none of that changed the fact that he was unable to see the man’s countenance – unable to decipher whatever expressions were possibly flitting across his features – unable to guess at what he was thinking; even as he desperately needed to _know._

As the moment stretched on – as Zero continued to stand there without saying or doing anything – Suzaku felt his apprehension growing; his thoughts devolving once more to the terrifying revelation of the shocking truth of his heart – of what it meant for it to be uncovered and made _real_. His mind was blaring at him again that it was unthinkable for him to care in such a way for someone who he had to repeatedly confront in battle – someone who would _never_ be on _his_ side (his **_enemy_** , his brain reminded him unhelpfully). Every sensible part of him yelled at him that this was nonsensical and asinine and _wrong_ – that he shouldn’t be feeling this way – that he should _not_ be asking the rebel to _stay_ with him – that he shouldn’t even be _hoping_ for the man to agree – that he should definitely not be _yearning_ so badly for Zero to just shed that damn mask and _be with him_ and– _oh._ **_Oh._** That final epiphany bowled over him so fiercely that it pushed him just a few seconds away from a full-blown anxiety attack; his heart skipping wildly in its rhythm; chest tightening, breath shortening, as his brain tripped and stumbled over the discovery of the _true depth_ of his desires. This wasn’t happening – couldn’t be happening – he couldn’t actually be…he couldn’t genuinely _want_ …he couldn’t possibly **_dream_** of... –not for someone whose true motives in this he didn’t even know (though he sometimes had the nagging, painful suspicion that it was all just a scheme to _literally_ seduce him to switch sides – after all, the rebel _had outright asked_ Suzaku to join him in the past – but he didn’t really want to _believe_ it). The grim reality was that he had not the slightest clue what Zero sincerely thought, or wanted, or _felt_ – all he could do was guess and assume (and _hope_ ) – and it was nothing short of maddening; especially now, with the weight of his unanswered request bearing down on him, threatening to break the fragile hold he had on his tempestuous emotions. Suzaku honestly didn’t know how he would react if his lover rejected his plea – didn’t know if his racing, _aching_ heart could take it in his current state – all he knew was that he _needed_ Zero to stay – needed him to _calm_ the turbulent storm raging within him; and in this moment, he was willing to do _anything_ to make that happen.

“Please…” he whispered again, gazing intently at that masked face; voice wavering with (stubbornly) unnamed feeling; his hands shaking as he picked up the discarded blindfold that was still on the bed beside him – even as his instincts _fought_ against it – and placed it back over his eyes, tying it securely.

_“ **Stay.** ”_

He nervously laid back on the bed and waited anxiously _(blindly)_ with bated breath; heart hammering, stomach twisting; his brain spitefully taunting him that this was foolish – that Zero could simply leave him like this without ever saying a word, and probably wouldn’t even _care_ (and oh, how staggeringly that thought _stabbed_ through his soul). He could not believe he was doing this; couldn’t fathom that he had fallen to the point that he was willing to give up his own comfort and peace of mind for the desperate hope of even just a few more moments with someone who he didn’t even know beyond a _persona_ – someone who wouldn’t (couldn’t) even trust him with his true identity. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the reality that he had _fallen so **deeply**_ for someone who he could never possibly have any kind of future with – someone who would sooner _destroy_ everything he had been working towards rather than seek to _build_ his dream _with_ _him_ (and his mind briefly conjured the vision of a smiling face with adoring, periwinkle eyes – it would be so much easier to love _her;_ but no, she was royalty, and too innocent, too _pure,_ and he was nothing, and too ruined, too _tainted_ – he could never have a future there either. It was useless to even think of her now; not when he had already _disgraced_ himself to this extent). Suzaku grit his teeth and swallowed painfully to stifle the woeful sob that threatened to escape him as his mind wallowed on things that couldn’t/shouldn’t/wouldn’t be and the _fatuity_ of his _fanciful_ dreams – even as he was currently wishing distraughtly for a sliver of one of those dreams to be real; straining his hearing for any signs of movement from the one he truly desired – the man who had so effortlessly bewitched him and turned him into such a pitiable, besotted **_mess_**.

When he faintly recognised the soft noises of rustling clothing, accompanied soon after by the familiar burst of sound that could only be the billowing of that well-known cape, Suzaku felt as though his world had just crumbled; his heart clenching and breathing stuttering as the dreadful awareness of rejection swept over him in a wave of anguish so immense that it took everything within him to not cry out from the force of it. He curled onto his side instead; pulling himself into a ball and clutching at his spasming chest in a futile attempt to ease the excruciating pain flooding through him. He mentally cursed himself for being so weak _,_ so _pathetic_ for feeling like this; hating himself for being so _foolish_ – for wanting what he _knew_ he wasn’t supposed want, what he _couldn’t have_ – for being so idiotic as to _ask_ for it – for being so naïve as to even hold out _hope_ for it – for not knowing how to cope with this _agony_ that he **_shouldn’t_** _feel_ because it was all so _ludicrous;_ and yet, he was unable to stop the bitter, burning tears that were brimming behind his eyelids and threatening to spill out onto that **_infernal_** _blindfold_ that he had _willingly_ put on, and still Zero had– and Suzaku was suddenly struck with a vicious fit of rage then – all his frustration and distress evolving into righteous fury and honing in ferociously on that loathsome piece of fabric as if it was the sole cause of all his problems – and he reached up angrily to just yank the offensive cloth from his eyes and–

A slender hand abruptly landed upon his.

Suzaku jolted; eyes flying open as he was startled half to death by that unforeseen hand that had halted his furious gesture half-way – the blindfold partially off and clenched tightly in his hand, which was now covered by a pale, gloveless one that held his in place. He blinked dazedly, all other thoughts temporarily forgotten, as he gazed at the unclothed limb before him; not quite believing what had just happened (because surely this was some sort of vivid, wistful _dream_ ), until against all logic, against all _hope_ , the bed dipped behind him, and a warm and very _real_ body pressed against his back. Suzaku let out a shuddering breath he hadn’t noticed he had been holding; his thundering heart gradually slowing and the painful tightness in his chest easing as he pushed back into that soothing warmth, assuring himself that yes, Zero was really here with him, he had _stayed_ with him – he hadn’t rejected him after all. A surge of relief flooded through him at the realisation, and Suzaku felt the misery that had inundated him steadily subsiding as he focused on that fact and held on to it like it was a lifeline pulling him back to shore. He reflexively attempted to turn towards his returned companion, instinctively seeking to bury himself in that source of much needed comfort, only to have his motion aborted as the hand that had been holding onto his moved swiftly to grasp his jawline in a firm, bracing grip. Suzaku groaned irritably, confused for a minute, until his brain finally caught up to reality and he registered the problem. He cursed internally – that previous anger flaring once more – and with a heavy sigh, he reached to reaffix the displaced blindfold– only to also have this movement unexpectedly stopped by another lean hand; but before he could question it or voice his building frustration, that same hand then gently, carefully _removed_ the silken fabric entirely, leaving him completely stunned as the cloth was neatly deposited on the pillow before him. He stared at it unblinkingly for a long, drawn out moment, not sure what to make of it; his mind drifting again to the thought that this was all just some fantastical dream – but the limber body settling behind him and the angular _face_ nestling into the crook of his neck assured him that he definitely wasn’t imagining this. Zero really was _here_ with him – he was here with him _without_ his mask, and he _wasn’t blinding_ him; and when that limber hand that had been holding his head forward shifted slowly (almost _hesitantly_ ) to release his jaw, trailing down his body to rest on his stomach instead, Suzaku could only look down at it in astonishment as the gravity of that action registered in his brain.

Zero was here – _without his mask_ – and there was absolutely _nothing_ to prevent Suzaku from _seeing his face_.

Suzaku laid there frozen – all other emotions overridden by sheer shock; his mind swirling over the possible implications of this development, even as his curiosity spiked tremendously. He was tempted, so very tempted to turn, to _look_ , but when he observed the almost imperceptible tremor of the arm around his waist, and the way that sharp face surreptitiously burrowed deeper into his nape, it dawned on him that he _wasn’t supposed_ to look; and somehow, he understood. It was as though a silent trade, a _compromise,_ had been offered; Zero was giving Suzaku what he had asked for – he was staying with him, and was even allowing him the freedom to see – and he was subtly, silently asking for only one important thing in return; and Suzaku felt his heart swell with wonder as the magnitude of that gesture weighed upon him. He was blown away by it, _touched_ by it, because he knew (and he perceived that Zero was also _acutely aware_ ) that at any moment, he could easily roll over and behold the visage that was the most sought after secret in the nation, if he so decided. It was, in truth, what he wanted to do (what he **_should_** do, his brain nagged); but he wouldn’t, he _couldn’t,_ because although he earnestly wished to know the countenance behind that mask, he realised that it _wasn’t_ what Zero wanted – the rebel wasn’t willingly revealing his identity to him; rather, he was entrusting him with his _anonymity_ – he was choosing to believe (to _trust_ ) that Suzaku wouldn’t try to see his face but would instead _respect_ his privacy. The revelation was enough to instantly quell Suzaku’s burning curiosity, as he was instead **_humbled_** by this incredible show of faith (and his gut sensed it was also a _test_ ); and he resolved that he most definitely was not going to break that _precious_ trust (he _wouldn’t fail_ ); because he also intrinsically intuited that to do so would certainly mean the _end_ of whatever fragile thing this was that was blooming between them – or even the end of his _life_ (and Suzaku knew in his heart, beyond a doubt, that only one of those options would truly hurt him – even if his brain said otherwise).

Decision made, he at last relaxed fully against the body behind him, reaching for the hand that was still tensed on his waist to give it a brief, reassuring squeeze as he did; and when that arm slowly released its tension and a relieved exhalation of breath eventually flowed across his nape, Suzaku felt that emotion (the one that he still stubbornly refused to name) welling up within him again. It flowed from the very depths of his core – rising like the tide and washing over him in waves; filling him with a sense of completion – of _homecoming_ – he hadn’t known he’d needed. Some small part of him still tried to push forward to admonish him once more that he was entering forbidden territory – that this was all utterly insane and would probably end in certain disaster – but he couldn’t care about that now; not when the embrace he was in tightened, and a soft kiss was pressed upon his neck; not when the hand that was wrapped around him moved to find and caress his, and long legs moved sensually to entangle with his own. No, _nothing_ else mattered to Suzaku in this moment – not when that unfailing feeling of _wholeness_ saturated the very air he breathed, surrounding him in that peaceful aura of _rightness_ that soothed him to his soul; so much so, that for the first time since this immoral, illicit affair began, he unrepentantly, unapologetically _basked_ in that _perfect_ embrace; and when he felt his lover’s fingers tenderly intertwine with his own, he finally allowed himself to smile as he held on tightly in return.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Fic writing life lessons: I am never again writing a story without doing a paragraph outline first omg. This fic exploded of its own accord and wow, it was probably the most challenging thing I've written yet. It's also the longest fic I've ever written, so yay for that XD
> 
> The original concept for this when I first started it back in 2009 was really just Suzaku musing and daydreaming on his own about his affair with Zero - hence the title. Clearly, this was not that, at all. Lol. When I started writing it this year, I just had the unshakeable idea of Suzaku acting on his inner desires by simply asking Zero to stay with him, and well...you saw how that turned out. Lol. It wasn't originally meant to be such a rollercoaster ride, but I actually really like the finished result, because to me, it really emphasises the depth of his internal conflict. At least, I really hope that's how it comes across for you readers.
> 
> Anyway, this is tentatively the last part of this series. I have a vague idea for a 4th instalment set after Suzaku finds out Zero is Lelouch...buuutt...it's not set in stone yet, so I'm not sure if it will happen, but you can feel free to subscribe anyway just in case it does. However, these 3 parts could still be viewed as a complete whole, even if that 4th part never comes into play.
> 
> What I will possibly be doing though, is starting a companion series of "extras" - just little drabbles of moments between and maybe after the events of this series. If you'd be interested in reading any of those, I'd suggest you subscribe to my works and not just this series so that you can be alerted when I start that project.
> 
> I actually also have some ideas/urges to write a companion fic/series to this one from Lelouch's POV. If that's something that you guys would be interested in reading, do let me know! You can even drop some ideas of what you'd like to see happen.
> 
> In fact, feel free to drop ideas of anything you would have liked to see happen in the events of this series, or even after. I may be inspired to do more fics for you guys.
> 
> Also, if you've been inspired by these works and would like to do any spin-offs or add-ons of your own, feel free to do so, but do let me know (I'd love to read them) and be sure to include the proper credit!
> 
> Finally, I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! Please let me know what you thought of it! Reviews give me life! 
> 
> Constructive criticism is also welcomed!
> 
> Peace Out! ^_^


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